


Shady Grey

by LolitaKitty



Category: Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Physical Abuse, Rewrite, Sexual Abuse, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-12 14:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17469374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LolitaKitty/pseuds/LolitaKitty
Summary: What if instead of Anastasia Steele, Kate had been roommates and best friends with a much more interesting girl? One with an actual personality. In fact, what if every character other than christian was a realistic portrait of normal people?This is a Fifty Shade of Grey Hatefiction/analysis/rewrite of the characters and their relationships.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because Twilight and FSoG were written in the first person, I will attempt to do the same although I’ve never written in that style. Well… let’s do this.  
> Oh and I had to read this shit book to write the story… But I just had to write this to show how the same story unfolds with three dimensional characters. I have had WAY too many mothers at my workplace praise this shitty book endlessly for the past few years to remain silent!

I send a flirty smile at my reflection. My hair is messy, but I look all the more attractive for it. It’s a crime to brush them really, but I have to look professional. I get it over with quickly, pulling the brown locks into a bun. A boring, professional, yawn-worthy bun.  
My roommate Kate fell ill, and being such an amazing friend, I volunteered to take her place interviewing some CEO for the student newspaper. Of course nothing comes for free in this world, so as soon as she gets better, all the chores will be hers to do for a week. After all, I had to clear most of my schedule to be able to attend this interview.  
  
I take a look at myself in the mirror. The hairdo is boring, just like the outfit I’m wearing. I look like a 15 year old pretending to be a librarian, not even the naughty type. I fix that with a touch of eye-liner. My eyes are my best asset. They’re big and blue, and my usual smoky eye shadow turns them into magnets. Not today though. Too much make up and I wouldn’t be taken seriously. So I’ll have to use my second best asset: my half smile.  
I caught on very early. If I smile just a little, not letting the smile quite reach my eyes, people will try their best to get a real smile.  
The perks of being beautiful.  
People will do almost anything to please attractive people.I look at my phone and sigh. I’ll have to drive all the way to downtown Seattle for this. The things you do for friends, but this is important to Kate, and Kate is important to me. So with one last look in the mirror, I head out of the bathroom.  
Kate is buried in pile of comfortable looking comforters, on the couch. She looks like she was sprayed with cayenne pepper. Her green eyes and small round nose are red and puffy, and leaking with fluids. I hand her a tissue as she tries to speak in a hoarse voice.  
  
“I’ll make it up to you, Effie, thank you so much. It took me nine months to get this interview.” She blows her nose loudly.  
  
“Oh, you’ll make it up to me, alright. In the mean time, you had better be properly sick, missy. I want this floor to be a field of dirty tissues when I come back.”  
  
“I’ll have no nose left,” she whines.  
  
I smirk, grabbing my purse and sitting on the arm of the couch, “I’m sure the Voldemort look will suit you just fine.”  
“Don’t forget to record the interview, I left spaces for you to take notes.” She ignores my teasing and hands me a few flash cards.  
  
“Only for you, Kate,” I remind her, getting up and grabbing my keys, “I hope you appreciate this.”  
  
“I do. You’re a lifesaver, thanks.”  
  
I point towards her bedroom with a stern look, before heading out. I take Kate’s fancy sport car, as we both concluded that my old car wouldn’t survive the trip from Vancouver, WA to Seattle. The drive is a fun one. I don’t get to drive this fast in my own car. The clear highway just slides smoothly under the wheels, and I can feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins. Maybe I should get a new car?  
  
I finally reach my destination. The building is somewhat tall, and has the very common "glass and steel" look. I walk into the lobby, glad that I got there with twenty minutes to spare. I take my time to look around at the building. It’s impressive, but very cold and unwelcoming, like most business headquarters. It’s one of those “see one, see them all” type of building. I walk towards the reception desk, smiling at the blond woman behind it. She smiles back. She’s wearing a grey outfit that’s even more boring than what I have on. Like the building, her outfit is a “see one, see them all” type, that every businesswomen pride themselves on wearing.  
  
“Hi, I’m Effie Miller. I’m here on behalf of Katherine Kavanagh to interview Mr. Grey.”  
  
She scans the planner in front of her, stops at Kate’s name and looks back at me with a polite smile.  
  
“Miss Kavanagh is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Miller. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.”  
  
I sign in where Kate’s name should have been, and nod my thanks as she hands me a visitor’s pass. I walk towards the elevators, following the woman’s instructions. I feel the elevator coming to a stop as inertia washes throughout my body. The doors slide open, and I find myself in a nearly identical lobby. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I haven’t moved at all, as I’m walking toward another blond woman, this time dressed in black and white.  
  
She invites me to wait on a set of white leather chairs, and I oblige. I admire the beautiful view of the city skyline, pulling out the questions Kate prepared. I don’t know much about the man I’m going to interview. A quick Google search filled me in on the basics, but I’m sure what I know of him could apply to any CEO of any big company. Just like the building and the receptionists’ outfits, this man is a “see one, see them all” type. The only noteworthy things were his young age and his good looks. I adjust my posture, trying not to slouch. I know I have to present well and appear professional. I’m representing Kate, not myself.I’m not much of a people person. I get easily bored by all the mindless small talk and find people utterly annoying. Everyone always tries to impress everyone. The majority lives to prove themselves. I live to enjoy myself. But Kate is a people pleaser, and so for this interview, I must be one as well.  
  
Yet another blond woman comes out of a large office door. I entertain the thought of this mega CEO cloning his personnel, or building blond androids in his spare time. I put the thought in my “ideas for books” mind-drawer.  
  
“Miss Miller?” the blond asks.  
  
“Yes,’ I reply with a polite smile.  
  
“Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. Have you been offered any refreshment?”  
  
“No,” I reply, hoping they might have coffee.  
  
The blond woman frowns at the younger woman behind the desk. _So newbie, then,_ I think.  
  
“Would you like tea, coffee or water?” she asks, looking back at me.  
  
“Coffee, thank you. Black.” I say with more enthusiasm than intended.  
  
The older woman sends the intern to fetch the coffee, and apologizes. They both return to work once I have my coffee, and I slowly sip the bitter liquid with delight.  
  
As I finish my coffee, a tall, good looking, black man with short dreads and a well adjusted suit, comes out of the office, inviting Mr. Grey to golf. The man smiles at me, and I nod back with my trademark half smile. His eyes linger on me while he heads to the elevator.  
  
"Good afternoon, ladies," he says, as the doors close slowly.  
  
"Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Miller. Do go through," one of the blondes tells me.  
  
I leave my coffee cup on the low coffee table, and walk into the office, grabbing Kate's questions. Once inside, I look at the young man in front of me, barely older than I am, and shake his extended hand.  
  
“Hi, I’m Effie Miller. Miss Kavanagh has fallen ill. I’m here on her behalf," I say before he can greet me.  
  
He raises his eyebrows slightly, "Oh, I see," he says, "would you like to sit?" He waves towards a white leather couch.  
  
"Thank you," I say, granting him a half smile. I have to admit, boring or not, the man is very handsome. I see something flash in his eyes, I'm not quite sure what it is though. The man is quite good at hiding his emotions, which isn't reassuring. As he sits down opposite me, I set up my phone to record the interview.  
  
"I hope you don't mind me recording your answers. I won't be the one writing the article after all," I ask.  
  
"Not at all,"he replies while watching my every move with an unnerving intensity.  
  
"I'm sure Miss Kavanagh explained what this interview was for?"  
  
He confirms, repeating what Kate had explained to me. He was going to be conferring the degrees a t the graduation ceremony.  
  
"Right," I say as I look at the first question, "let's start then. You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" Oh, Kate. You need to work on your question choice. I'm sure I've already seen that question answered in the few articles I skimmed through on Google. I look up at the man, and he looks understandably disappointed at the unoriginal question.  
  
"Business is all about people, Miss Miller, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well."He pauses briefly, and stares. He then continues to brag his merits, hard work and abilities to read an manipulate people. All businessmen really are the same. I give him a subtle smirk, I want to test my theory.  
  
"Maybe you're just lucky," I say, the left corner of my lips raising involuntarily. His eyes flare in surprise.  
  
"I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Miller," he says in a cold tone. He continues to praise hard work as the only reason for his success, and even throws in a quote for good measure. I was right. And he thinks he's good at reading people.  
  
"Do you have any interests outside work?" I read the second question. Seriously Kate, I need to edit these questions before I read them out loud. "I mean, what are your interests outside of work?" I quickly rephrase.  
  
"I have varied interests," he says, smiling ever so slightly, "very varied." His irises dilate as his says this, and I hold back a chuckle.  
  
"Yes, I imagine," I start, innocently, "perhaps I should have asked: what are your interests outside of work, and sex?"  
  
His eyes twitch slightly in surprise. He shifts in his chair. "I'm a very wealthy man, I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."  
  
I roll my eyes before I can stop myself. I'm simply not used to using so much self control. I clench my teeth and look at Kate's next question. More boring stuff that's been answered in other interviews. Come on, Kate. The man doesn't give that many interviews to start with, get creative, use this opportunity to its fullest potential. The next few questions are quite boring, with equally uninteresting answers. His answer about feeding the poor sounds like a classical "look how philanthropic I am" move, and his life philosophy is more entitled rich man crap. I finally reach something interesting.  
  
"You were adopted, how far do you think that has shaped the individual you are today?"  
  
He furrows his brows, "I have no way of knowing," he says.  
  
Either he seriously lacks imagination, or he's repressing some serious shit. So much for interesting information. I press on to the next question, eyeing the battery life of my phone quickly.  
  
"Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?" I ask, as I mentally note that the man was still quite young and probably hadn't even thought of having a family yet. Men below 30 didn't often think about starting families.  
  
"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that," he answers.  
  
Well, definitely repressing shit then, I thought. I had to fight the urge to burst out laughing at the next question. Oh Kate, that phrasing. I'd have to have a few words with her later. But I had to admit the question was well timed with his last answer.  
  
"I see, are you gay, Mr. Grey?" I can't resist that rhyme, even if the phrasing is terrible.  
  
He inhales sharply, unamused by my question, unlike me.  
  
"No Effie, I'm not." The tension in the room gets even thicker as he uses my first name, no doubt in an attempt to intimidate me, and I clench my teeth. I would have laughed at his ridiculous display of suspicious defensiveness, if he'd not been so disrespectful about it.  
  
"Miss Miller is fine," I say with a tight, insincere smile.  
  
"What would make you think such a thing?" he asks, his voice still ringing with a cold, intimidating tone.  
__  
The businessman doth protest too much, methinks. I roll my eyes internally, more and more eager to get this over with. My patience and ability to hold back the asshole in me are wearing thin.  
  
"Don't shoot the messenger," I say casually, "the questions are here, I ask them. I personally don't care whether or not you're gay, Mr. Grey." For the second time, I can't resist that rhyme.  
  
He looks at me in genuine surprise. Did he just notice the rhyme? Or was it something else I said? He cocks his head to the side.  
  
"These aren't your own questions?"  
  
I look at him, puzzled. Has he not been paying attention? Did we not established that I was here on behalf of the original interviewer? Did I not make it clear that I wasn't writing the article?  
  
"No..." I say slowly, "Miss Kavanagh wrote them."  
  
"And you're a colleague of hers on the student paper?"  
  
"No. She's my roommate," I reply simply.  
  
He rubs his chin in contemplation. Scanning me intently with his cold, grey eyes. I guess the interview is finished. Looks like I'll have have time to go to work after all.  
  
"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" he asks in a low accusing voice.  
  
I resist the urge to growl in contempt. He thinks I'm here to fan-girl over him? The barrier holding the jerk inside me snaps.  
  
"As I said when I got here, she's sick. She begged me to take her place since it had been so hard to obtain this interview. I was told no one else was available to do it. I accepted because I'm a good friend, not because I'm a fan of yours. In fact, I didn't even know you existed before this, because I don't care about boring people." I shut the recording app on my phone, and shove it in my bag.  
If this interview wasn't over after the "gay" question, it certainly is now. I’m not wasting more time with this arrogant sod. Just as he was going to say something, there is a knock on the door. One of the blonds pops her head in and announces a meeting for Mr. Grey. I take this as my cue and get up.  
  
Before I can take a single step however, Mr. Grey says: “We're not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting."  
  
I sigh and sit back down. Maybe I could power through the next few questions, and finish within five minutes?  
  
Once Andrea left the office, Mr. Grey turns towards me once more.  
"Where were we, Miss Miller?"  
Well at least he’s polite again. I grab my little stack of questions again, but feel like the tension is still hanging.  
"Please," I say, "don't let me keep you from anything."  
  
"I want to know about you. I think it's only fair," Grey muses, looking at me with intense curiosity.  
  
Only fair? I may not be part of the student paper, but this is still an official interview. What makes him think I owe him anything. Then again, it seems I've intrigued him. I lean back in my chair, and put on a neutral expression.  
  
"There's not much to know," I say. I watch him him carefully, curious where he'll take this.  
  
"What are your plans after you graduate?"  
  
_Ah, this is where it's going._ I shrug casually, "I'm not sure yet," I lie. I don't need to hear how writing books isn't a career until you've published one and how I need a plan B. I get enough of that from people who care about me. I don't need this conversation from a stranger.  
  
"We run an excellent internship program here," he says.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," I say, offering my best half smile. "Although, I doubt I'll fit in," I joke, thinking about all the blond clones.  
  
"Why do you say that?" He seems genuine intrigued, although he smile slightly.  
  
"I'm not quite the right type," I say, nodding towards the door where the blond had stood a minute ago. _Plus, I'm not dying my hair._  
  
"I disagree," Grey murmurs. He's now looking at me with insistence, and maybe even hunger. The way a wolf would look at a lamb, except this wolf needs glasses, because it's not a lamb he's looking at, but a honey badger.  
  
Since the silence drags on, I, once again, take this as my cue to leave. I shift in my seat to get up, but he suddenly asks:  
  
“Would you like me to to show you around?”  
  
“Thank you, but I’ve got a long drive ahead of me” I raise the corners of my mouth in a polite smile.  
  
“You’re driving back to to WSU in Vancouver?” I can hear a hint of anxious surprise in his tone as he glances out the window. It’s raining. “Well you’d better drive carefully,” he says in a stern tone.  
Is that supposed to be an order. I resist the urge to reply “yes, dad” and shake my head with a chuckle as I finally get up.  
  
“Did you get everything you need?” he adds.  
  
“Yes, thank you for the interview. Have a nice afternoon.” I reply, holding my hand out.  
  
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he shakes my hand firmly. “until we meet again, Miss Miller.” His tone makes it sound like a threat, his tone and the way he looks at me.  
  
I hold his gaze as I nod. “Good bye Mr Grey.”  
  
He moves towards the door, holding it open for me. I walk out, but he follows me. The two blondes -I can’t bother to remember their names- look up, surprised.  
  
“Did you have a coat?” Grey asks.  
  
“Yes.” says one of the blondes. She quickly springs off her seat and retrieves my jacket. Grey takes it from her before she can hand it to me. He hold it up for me. _Oh, really?_ I think. Well if he wants to play, I’ll play. I raise my eyebrow and give him my best smirk. I slowly turn around and slide my arms in the sleeves. As he places his hands on my shoulders, I whip around, apparently surprising him. He’s standing inches from me, but I don’t back away. Instead, I look him straight in the eyes, “Thank you.” And with that, I walk to the elevator, calling it up.  
  
The man stands next to me, in silence as I wait for the elevator. When the doors finally open with a ding, I get in and he continues to stare at me, unblinking. I almost tell him a picture would last longer, but then, I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of this man having a picture of me in his possession.  
  
“ Effie,” he says as a farewell.  
  
“Christian,” I reply with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, as the doors close.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mister stalker is exhibiting some stalkery behaviour...

I slowly shake my head as I reach the ground floor. That man was almost trying too hard to pull off the mysterious-and-intimidating-stud. I could tell I was dealing with a man far too used to getting his way and playing with people’s emotions. Someone to stay well away from.  
  
I'm speeding on the highway, loud music playing as I'm thinking about his over the top reaction to the question. I chuckle to myself, thinking how insecure he must be about his sexuality. I find myself wondering how Kate will handle that part of the interview. There were only two questions left, so I hadn't completely messed up. I could have handled it more gracefully, but he should have done the same first.   
  
As I pull up in front of our duplex apartment, I find myself hoping Kate won't be mad at me for almost ruining the interview. Then, as I walk to the front door, I remember she wrote the questions in the first place and would have received the same reaction. Although she would probably have handled it better as well. Still, it was at the very least in poor taste. Maybe a better phrasing would have gone over better. Well, probably not. He would have accepted nothing short from people simply assuming he is completely and entirely straight with every fiber of his being. Jackass.    
  
"Effie, you're back!" Kate exclaims from the, now book-filled, couch. It looks like she has been studying instead of resting, but I don't blame her, very few have my innate talent for not-giving-a-single-fuck when it comes to school. Kate goes to hug me, but I dodge her.   
  
"If I get sick during finals I'll have to actually put some efforts in." I tell her, backing away from her.    
  
She sighs in response, "And we can't have that, now can we."   
  
"Absolutely not," I reply. I throw my coat on the couch and pull my phone out of my purse and wave it at Kate.   
  
“Effie, thank you so much for doing this. I owe you, I know. How was it? What was he like?”   
  
I roll my eyes and throw the phone at her, which she catches expertly.   
  
"Arrogant, try-hard, conceited... and kinda creepy to be honest."   
  
Kate looks a little disappointed, so I add, "but, like, really hot!"   
  
She bursts out laughing and I lay the final nail in the coffin, "so long as he doesn't open his mouth."   
  
I sink in the sofa next to, but still at a distance from, Kate.   
  
"Seriously though, I got a serious bad vibe from the guy," I tell Kate while waves the phone for me to unlock it.   
  
"I also may have slightly messed up?" I say unlocking the phone. I see the time and send her the sound file.   
  
"Oh no," she says, her voice small, worry lines appearing on her forehead, "what did you do?”    
  
I get up, grabbing my purse and jacket in one move. "I sent you the audio file, have fun. I'm going to work."   
  
"What did you do?" She calls after me, but I'm already out.   
  
For the past few years, I've been working in a large independent hardware store. The job is a great one for students: flexible schedules and a really nice owner. Who happens to have a hot little brother, whom I happen to be dating. My shift is pretty uneventful, except for the knowing little glances Mrs Clayton keep throwing my way.    
  
When I arrive home later, Kate is wearing headphones and working on her laptop. She's completely immersed in her story and barely registers my presence. I sink on the couch, tired from the long day. I lazily grab my laptop from the coffee table and open the essay I need to finish.   
  
“You’ve got some good stuff here, Effie. Well done. I can’t believe you didn’t take him up on his offer to show you around. He obviously wanted to spend more time with you.”   
  
I roll my eyes as she continues typing away. “I hear what you mean about try-hard. Did you take any notes?” she asks.   
  
"No, but if you need to know anything, just ask, I've got the session recorded like a movie up there." I say, tapping my temple with a finger.   
  
"Alright, great! It'd be great to have an original still or two. A hot son-of-a-bitch like that, you know."   
  
I chuckle openly at that. "Mr Grey, I'm totally not a fan, but, like, let's take a selfie!" I say mockingly.   
  
Kate almost chokes.    
  
"Honestly, I kinda feel like I messed up with the whole gay question.”   
  
Kate starts to protest, but I continue, ”What I mean is, I didn't keep my cool when he lost his."   
  
"Please you handled it much better than I expected." I raise an almost insulted eyebrow at Kate over my laptop's screen.   
  
"Oh, come on," she says defensively, " that was the most cool you could've ever kept."   
  
"Okay, fine it is," I admit reluctantly, "but seriously, who reacts like that and doesn't have issues huh?"   
  
"Oh I hear you," Kate says, returning to her work.   
  
I give a defeated sigh and we go back to our respective works. 

* * *

  
The rest of the week is a blur of studying and working for both Kate and I. I manage not to get sick as she finally gets better, and we can go back to sharing forks and lipsticks. I call my mom as I do every week, both to let her know I'm still alive, but also so she can wish me luck for my final exams.   
  
She worries me. Ever since my step-dad left with my little sister, my mom's been slowly sinking into a depression. At the time i wanted to dropout and go take care of her, but she made it clear she'd unleash her wrath on me if I did. And well, the wrath of a mother is the single most terrifying thing on this Earth.   
  
As usual, I let her know I love her, invite her for the hundredth time to stay over with Kate and I so she's not alone with her misery, and proceed to hang up and call Antonio, her neighbour, so he can check on her for me.   
  
When my mom was pregnant with my sister, Ellie (please don't judge my poor, unimaginative mother), Steven, my step-dad, thought it would be better to move in the suburbs. Our new neighbour, Antonio Carrasco, quickly became my best friend on the planet. He was a writer, who lived in his parents' basement and published his novels online. Needless to say that he was my inspiration.    
  
When I left for university, I made him promise he'd watch on my family and make sure my sister was less reckless than I was. Over the years, Antonio, Steven, Ellie and my mom, Darla, became very close. Especially my mom and Antonio. In fact, she ended up developing feelings for him and, one day, she admitted it to Steven, A few months later they got a divorce. It was peaceful and drama free, they even stayed on good terms. Steven even stayed good friends with Antonio (who, turns out, had feelings for him.) But my sister didn't take it well at all. She hasn't spoken to mom since the divorce. No matter what Steven and I tell her, she won't forgive mom.    
  
After speaking to my mom, I call Steven and give him news of both me and mom. The conversation drags on as we talk about nothing and everything. Finally, he wishes me good luck with my finals, and promises to visit mom soon.   
  
Friday night sees my friend José show up at our front door, a bottle of champagne in hand.   
  
“José’s got the booze!” I shout at Kate seconds after opening the door. I step aside to let José in.   
  
José is one of the first friends i’ve made at WSU. He’s studying engineering and has a real passion for photography. We dated in our first year, but it didn’t work out. That didn’t stop us from staying friends however. And while I know he still has feelings for me, I also know that our friendship comes first in his eyes.   
  
“I have news.” He grins, his dark eyes twinkling.   
  
I flop on the sofa next to Kate and pat the space next to me.   
  
“The Portland Place Gallery is going to exhibit my photos next month.”   
  
“Woot! Congratulations boy!” I hug him sideways and Kate beams at him too.   
  
“Way to go José! I should put this in the paper. Nothing like last minute editorial changes on a Friday evening.” She grins.    
  
“Let’s celebrate. I want you to come to the opening.” José says, almost bouncing in his seat.    
  
I join him in the bouncing as I urge him to open the bottle. Kate and I whoop loudly at the pop of the cork, our arms raised in victorious celebration.   
  


* * *

  
The next morning, regrets flood me as I arrive at the circus that is my workplace on this fine Saturday. The shop is abuzz with customers all morning, and the entire staff is running around like headless chickens. The insanity finally dies down around lunch time. Because all the other employees rushed at the chance to take their lunch break. I told Mrs Clayton I’d take mine closer to the end of my shift and stayed at the till, checking orders. I suddenly see a humanoid shape in my peripheral vision, so I look up. I nearly jump in surprise at the sight of Christian Grey standing at the counter, staring at me in silence. A cold shiver runs down my spine and I instinctively look for Mr Clayton.   
  
“Miss Miller. What a pleasant surprise.” He says, his gaze unwavering.   
  
“Oh yeah, surprise is the word alright.” I say with a nervous chuckle, still looking for the place’s owner.   
  
There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are alight with humour, as if he’s enjoying some private joke.   
  
“I was in the area,” he says nonchalantly. “I need to stock up on a few things. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Miller.”   
  
I’m at a loss for words. In the area?  I think, completely taken aback. I don’t know wether to scoff or runaway or call the police. Shaking my head, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. This couldn’t be anything other than a coincidence. He didn’t know where I worked, and certainly wouldn’t have driven all this way on the chance that I might be working today. Coincidences happened all the time, and how often did I just randomly stubble on friends and acquaintances?   
  
“What can I help you with, Mr. Grey?”   
  
Again with the shit eating grin. I eye him suspiciously.   
  
“There are a few items I need. To start with, I’d like some cable ties,” he murmurs, his gray eyes cool but amused.   
  
“Right,” I say slowly, “ This way.” I come out from behind the counter, and lead him to the right aisle. As I walk, I feel his gaze watching my every movement. A reassuring voice in my head keeps repeating: It’s just a coincidence, but I’m not sure I believe it. Hell, the voice itself doesn’t sound convinced.    
  
“Are you in Portland on business?” I ask, trying not to sound as suspicious as i am of him.   
  
“I was visiting the WSU farming division. It’s based at Vancouver. I’m currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science,” he says matter-of-factly.”   
  
I let out a breath of relief I didn’t know I was holding. He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock at Clayton’s.   
  
“These will do,” he says with a smile.   
  
“Is there anything else?”   
  
“I’d like some masking tape.” I nod and lead him to the right section. He follows me with a goofy grin plastered on face.     
  
“Have you worked here long?” His voice is low, a little too low for the context.   
  
“Four years,” I say matter-of-factly as we stop by the masking tape. I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock.    
  
“I’ll take that one,” Grey says softly pointing to the wider tape, which I pass to him.   
  
“Anything else?” I say with a polite, but tight, smile. His eyes widen slightly.   
  
“Some rope, I think.” he says in a tone that worries me. Well, alright not the tone so much as the my-first-kidnapping-kit he seems to be gathering.   
  
“This way.” I head for the aisle, eager to get this over with. Cable ties, masking tape, rope… If he asks for a shovel next, I’m calling the cops then and there.   
  
“What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope… twine…cable cord… ” I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. I gently touch my phone in my back pocket, making sure it’s there, as I scan around to see if there’s any signs of life in the store.   
  
“I’ll take five yards of the natural filament rope please.    
  
I measure out five yards against the fixed ruler, aware that he is still staring me. Taking my Stanley knife from my back pocket, and feeling reassured as I hold it firmly, I cut the rope, then coil it neatly before tying it in a slipknot.   
  
“Were you a Girl Scout?” he asks, lips curled in amusement.   
  
“Group activities aren’t really my thing,” I reply honestly.   
  
He arches a brow.   
  
“What is your thing, Effie?” he asks. _That shit eating grin, I swear._ I look at him, my fingers toying with the knife in my hands.   
  
“Books,” I say, hoping he gets the message.   
  
“What kind of books?” He cocks his head to one side.   
  
Of course he didn’t, “Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly.” Still no sign of life in the store, where did everyone go?  He rubs his chin with his long index finger and thumb as he contemplates my answer.   
  
“Anything else you need?” I say quickly, bringing him back to reality.   
  
“I don’t know. What else would you recommend?”   
  
I offer a forced, uncomfortable smile, “I don’t know, it depends on your project. Are you renovating a room, or getting rid of a body?” I say, trying to hide the fact that I wasn’t asking as a joke.   
  
“Let’s say, renovating.” Grey says in an amused tone.   
  
My smile however disappears completely.   
  
“You know, John is really more qualified for this kind of advice.” I say, backing away and pointing towards the direction I hope John is in.   
  
“How’s the article coming along?” He suddenly changes the subject.   
  
“Kate’s very happy with the interview.” I say, my smile not reaching my eyes as I continue to back away. “She’s quite grateful and sorry about the whole.. you know…” I trail off. I keep glancing towards the end of the aisle, hoping someone will show up.    
  
“She has every thing she needs?” he asks.   
  
“Yep,” I reply, again with a tight smile.   
  
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet. “My card. It has my cell number on it. If ever you need additional information, just give me a call. You’ll need to call before ten in the morning.” He hands me a plain business card.   
  
I nod mutely, taking the card from him.   
  
“Effie!” I hear my name being called with a familiar and reassuring voice. All the tension since to instantly melt away from my body.   
  
All the little glances Mrs Clayton was throwing at me last time now made sense. Paul was home.   
  
“Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Grey.” Grey frowns as I turn away from him.   
  
Paul hugs me hard the moment he reaches me. We tend to keep things professional and restrain from too much PDA whenever we’re at the store, but considering we hadn’t seen each-other in a while, an exception was expected. And considering the current circumstances, very, extremely welcome.    
  
“Effie, hi, it’s so good to see you!” he gushes.   
  
“Right back at ya!” I say, hugging him a little tighter than necessary.   
  
He releases me, but seems to pick upon my nervousness as he keeps an arm draped over my shoulder. I feel like I can finally relax now that another human being is present.   
  
When I glance back at Christian Grey, he’s watching us like a hawk, his eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard impassive line. He’s changed from the merry body dump shopper to cold and distant.   
  
“Paul, I’m with a customer,” I say in a tone a little more stern than usual. A tone Paul knows means: do not, under any circumstances, leave my side.   
  
I turn to Grey, “Paul, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey, this is Paul Clayton. His brother owns the place. I’ve known Paul ever since I’ve worked here and we’ve been seeing each other for the past two years.”   
  
“Mr. Clayton.” Christian holds his hand out, his eyes cold.    
  
“Mr. Grey,” Paul returns his handshake. “Wait up – not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprises Holdings?” Grey gives him a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.   
  
“Wow – is there anything I can get you?”   
  
“Effie has it covered, Mr. Clayton. She’s been very attentive.” His expression is impassive, but his words almost cut like a knife.   
  
“Cool,” Paul responds, smiling innocently at the man.   
  
“Anything else, Mr.Grey?” i ask, smiling equally innocently.   
  
“Just these items.” His tone is clipped and cool. Taking a deep, satisfied breath, I turn and head for the register, Paul close by.   
  
I ring up the rope, masking tape, and cable ties at the register, a cold shiver running down my spine as I do. It’s like a DIY “my-first-kidnapping” kit.   
  
“That’ll be thirty-one dollars, please.” I glance up at Grey, an he’s watching me closely. Paul is leaning on the counter, smiling like a goof.   
  
“Would you like a bag?” I ask as I take his credit card.   
  
“Please, Effie,” he says in a softer voice.   
  
I place his purchases in a plastic bag and hand back his credit card.   
  
He turns to leave, then pauses. “Oh – and Effie, I’m glad Miss Kavanagh couldn’t do the interview.” He smiles, then strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder.    
  
I slump and let out a deep breath as I turn towards Paul, who’s looking at me with incredulity, “Okay, what the hell was that?”   
  
I grab him by the collar and drag him towards the break room in the back, “Not now. I haven’t seen you in months and, right now, I wanna do things to you my mama wouldn’t approve of.”   
  
This seems to add a spring in Paul’s step.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All male characters were basically broken, misogynistic jerkholes in this book, so… I took a few liberties… I mean come on, decent human beings of the male persuasion do exist in this world!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Effie spends a little bit of quality time with Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, real departure from the book. I heard the sex comes in VERY late in FSoG, and I'm not doing that. Also, I figured since they haven't seen each other in a while, they'd be horny or something?  
> This one is short, but the departure meant I didn't have to read the book for this chapter XD! WINNING!

Paul and I head to the employee’s lunch room. We’re the only ones there for the next half hour, at the very least. Paul grabs me by the waist and kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it.

After a solid minute of making out, he stops, clearly still bothered, and cups my face in his hands.

"Seriously, What was all that about?" He asks, his eyes as wide as his smile.

"That was the weirdest, creepiest, hopefully-coincidence ever," I say before kissing him again.

"I haven't seen you in so long," I continue, rubbing my nose against his cheek,

"I don't want to talk about creepy millionaires stalking me in my workplace," I whine.

Paul holds me by the shoulders, at arms length, with an alarmed expression on his face. "What?"

"Like I said, it's hopefully just a coincidence."

I recount the events of the interview, and how he randomly appeared at my register a little before Paul found us. Paul is now sitting on a chair, while I'm sitting on the table next to him. He runs his hand through his brown hair, a befuddled expression on his face.

"I mean, it  _has_ to be a coincidence."

"Right?" I press.

"Yeah, you met the guy once. He wouldn't, like, find out where you work and then drive all the way here-”

"Nah, that's too weird," I agree.

"Way too weird," he concludes.

We fall into a comfortable silence and he takes my hand in his.

“We’ve got half an hour,” he suggests, getting up and grabbing me by the waist again.

“Yeah, we do,” I tease him.

“We could play a little game,” he says, sliding his hands towards my belly. I can feel him getting harder and stiffer against me.

I lick my lips and ask: “Like what?”

He slides his hand down on my stomach, wiggling his fingers past the elastic band of my underwear. I take a deep, shaky breath as he reaches a more sensitive area.

“How about, “Don’t make a sound”” he says as his fingers get to work.

I feel heat rising to my face as he starts licking a particularly ticklish area, just behind my jaw bone. I’m breathing harder and faster, trying not to moan in pleasure. As waves after waves of tingling course through my body, I can’t help but let a few quiet, squeaky moans out.

“Careful,” he whispers, “if you get too loud, I’ll have to stop, without letting you finish.”

I hold on to him tighter, pressing my face into his shoulder to prevent any sounds. His fingers are getting faster. My nails dig into his back and I bite on his shoulder. He hisses in pain, but keeps fingering me.

“Getting a bit savage there, Effie?” he says.

“Don’t stop!” I beg him in a strained voice. I feel my muscles tightening, my breathing is erratic and my legs are shaking. I feel warmth bursting through my body in several waves, and my muscles finally relax.

Paul slides his hands out of my damp underwear, and runs his fingers lightly across my belly. It feels like little electric shocks. He slides his fingers over my hardened nipples. They show through despite the thick fabric of my bra.

“We have a bit of time still,’ Paul says in a low voice, grabbing at his hardened member.

“Do you want more?” I nod, lifting my skirt and lowering my panties. They had become cold and uncomfortable. I bend over the table as he unzips his pants and pulls a condom from his pocket. I'm still breathing hard, and I bite my lips when he slides his dick against my wet inner lips. He teases me for a moment, rubbing his warm cock on my bud, but not going in. I let out a small impatient groan, and he finally slides in, a little too fast. I lightly press my hand against his hips to slow him down.

“Hey, slow down, it's been a while," I say, removing my hand.

“Right, I’ll take my time.”

I take a deep breath as he very slowly presses all 6 inches inside me, and my walls tighten around him; as if to keep him inside. He starts pumping slowly, running his hands firmly across my back, first up, then down, and finally, he grabs my hips and picks up speed. I hold onto the sides of the table firmly, trying to still stay as quiet as possible.

It doesn’t take long before the tingling starts running up and down my body again. And my muscles stiffen, and my breathing hardens. Warmth, once again, explodes throughout my body, and my face is on fire. My body relaxes, and Paul thrusts even faster, sliding a hand between my legs and rubbing my clit vigorously.

The tingling starts again, faster this time. It takes everything I have not to scream. Instead, high pitched little sounds escape my throat. I bite my hand and my eyes start rolling up. There are fireworks in my lower abdomen, and again, my body relaxes as warmth pulses through me. Paul gives one big thrust and stops deep inside me before doing it a second time, and finally a third. He collapses on top of me, kissing my neck and shoulders. He’s still inside me, and my walls tighten around him multiple times.

He finally pulls out. I pull my panties up and head towards the nearby bathroom to clean up. He follows me in, removing the soiled condom, and wrapping it in toilet paper before tossing it in the bin.

After cleaning up, we both go back to the lunch room, I grab my lunch from the mini fridge and we sit at the table. I’m sitting on his lap, and he’s kissing the back on my shoulders.

“Any specific movie you wanna see tonight?” Paul asks me, his chin resting on my shoulder while I eat my sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW if you're interested in beta reading this for me, let me know!  
> I have dyslexia and while Grammarly catches most things, there are always little things here and there.  
> And I'm obviously straying a lot from the book, keeping only Christian canon, so if you've read the book, your input is welcome as long as you keep that in mind.

**Author's Note:**

> For the cover, I think i redrew Effie like 5X X.x... The realistic style just wasn’t working for me on this one specifically. I don’t know what it is about digital, I just have way more trouble getting a good realistic or semi realistic look on digital than on traditional media. Oh well... It only means I might end up doing they other images in traditional media... although.. i really should practice digital more ... A few of her features didn’t come out quite like I wanted.. but by the 5th attempt I guess i was getting a bit tired and I didn’t want to start over a 6th time. Her eyes shouldn’t be this slanted, but I dunno when I draw cartoony a lot of my characters end up with those eyes... and well actually that’s the only thing lol.


End file.
